"Come on, it's Girls' Night Out! Are you going to sit there on your phone all night?"

Sumire's beer breath blew into Mikan's face, but Mikan didn't mind, already tipsy herself after a few margaritas and other sweet, fruity mixed drinks. There was a lot that Mikan didn't let bother her that night - the lecherous glances from the men at the bar, the somewhat off-tune wannabe singer karaoking on the stage, the subtle musk of sweaty bodies and lingering vomit masked by alcohol and fresh air coming through the open doors. But there was one thing Mikan couldn't ignore.

Having no regard for privacy, Sumire looked at Mikan's screen.

"Mikan, are you serious? We're here to make you forget about him! You should at least be on Tinder or something." She reached over Mikan's arm to grab the tequila shot the other girls had left and quickly drained it. "Whatever floats your boat, though."

Defensively, Mikan turned off her screen and placed her phone facedown, revealing for all the world to see, tucked into her phone case, the strip of four silly pictures she and Natsume had taken at the photobooth at the last pre-med gala.

Sumire pushed the phone away from her, across the most likely dirty and germ-riddled bar table, covered with various indie stickers. Scooting closer to Mikan and moving Nonoko's fringe purse to the other side, Sumire placed her hand over Mikan's.

"Listen, baby girl, I know your heart is still broken because I can tell it's just not in it tonight. Do you want to go back to your place?"

"No, no, I'll be fine." She slipped her hand out from under Sumire's and waved it dismissively. "We've been wanting to go out anyway. We're here to de-stress from finals." As if to prove her emotional stability, she reached for her strawberry lemonade vodka. "Cheers."

Sumire grabbed someone else's tequila shot and clinked it with Mikan's. "Cheers."

She usually wasn't a big drinker; it was usually Sumire going hard, and sometimes Hotaru matched her shot for shot, but…

It was the gaping pit inside her that she'd been trying to ignore all night, trying to fill with alcohol and loud music and dancing. Natsume Hyuuga, her long-time boyfriend of three years, had recently walked out on her.

Like literally walked out on her.

It was finals week, everyone was stressed, and Mikan was trying to study for her organic chemistry exam, and Natsume was doing that annoying habit of his: tapping his pencil off-beat to the music he was listening to.

Mikan could hear the music through his headphones and wouldn't have minded the background noise, but it was the fact that it was totally not on rhythm that frustrated her. It was a cacophony to her ears.

Worst of all, Natsume didn't even notice because he thought he was tapping on time instead of the .5 seconds behind he was. Curse his musical incompetence.

Mikan had asked him (calmly, she recalled) to stop, once, twice, and then had blown up at him, and before either of them knew it, they were having one of those blind-with-fury, screaming, I-Can't-Believe-I'm-Dating-You-Because-You're-So-Obnoxiously-Annoying-And-Why-Didn't-I-Realize-That-Before fights.

Right before the fight could reach its climax, before either of them could calm down and eventually kiss and make up, Natsume left, grumbling he was going for a walk.

But he didn't come back that night.

And the next morning, he wasn't there when she woke up. In fact, when she left for her microbiology final and came back, she noticed that an entire drawer of his things was cleared out and one of his suitcases was missing. Even his toothbrush was gone.

That was three nights ago.

She'd tried to put it out of her mind and focus on her studies (because after all, what was more important, her future career or some boy she might or might not marry?), but the truth gradually settled itself over the week.

Natsume was gone.

On the second morning of waking up and him still being gone, she had tried twice to call him, but it went directly to his voicemail. She tried to ask his best friend, Ruka, where Natsume was, but he also wasn't answering. Natsume's other friends also disappeared, probably busy with their own final exams. She didn't have the time or energy to spend leading a search party around campus, especially not with finishing lab reports, arranging her upcoming practicum, figuring out med school applications, etc., etc., etc. Finally, she texted him a few times (very generic, with no sign of desperation: "hey what you up to," "what you doing right now"), but still no reply.

One time, after she had finished her anatomy and physiology final, she saw she had a missed call from him, but he hadn't left a voicemail and he didn't pick up when she called him back.

And so, at the start of Girls' Night Out that Friday, Mikan announced that she and Natsume were officially over. Anna and Nonoko and Sumire gave sympathetic clucks and hugs. Hotaru bought her a drink, and that's how Mikan knew she really cared. They didn't pry and let Mikan down the first shot of the night.

"All right, no more moping, no more thinking, let's go dance!"

Stumbling out of the club, Mikan was glad she was not the one in charge of calling her Uber. No matter how much Hotaru drank, she always maintained enough wits about her to see them home safely.

Even though Nonoko and Anna insisted they walk home, like they did every other Girls' Night arm-in-arm, the leery men from across the street made the entire squad agree to squeeze into the car. Hotaru took the front seat while Mikan ended up pressed against the door, Sumire's ass gyrating in her lap.

Thankfully, the driver was young and totally not creepy so she didn't mind a bunch of definitely-not-sober ladies singing along to the radio. The window rolled down, the night breeze blowing through Mikan's hair, she could almost forget all her woes.

Nonoko and Anna's apartment was only a couple of blocks away so the trip there didn't last long, and there was more room to breathe in the backseat. Mikan's place was next.

"Bye, bitch!" cackled Sumire as she pulled shut the car door before it sped off.

The fresh air and brief exercise gave Mikan back enough mental energy to successfully take the elevator to their - her - fourth floor apartment, unlock the door, kick off her heels, and collapse on her bed, no problem.

For the millionth time that night, Mikan wished she was a sleepy drunk. There were people who were a happy drunk, flirty drunk, wild drunk, etc. Mikan wished the alcohol would course through her veins and sedate her, leaving her blissfully dead to the world for hours.

But, unluckily for her, she was a simping drunk.

All she wanted to do was look at Natsume, and since Natsume the person wasn't there, she opted for Natsume the photogenic bastard.

Just one look through her photos of him, to make her go to sleep easier in such a spacious, lonely, empty bed.

Oh yes, the rush was almost euphoric for her, though accompanied by a sharp heartbreak, looking at several of their happy photos. Natsume rarely smiled for pictures, but in most of the ones they had together, he had managed a slight turn at the corners. As though he were complex chemical compounds, Mikan studied him, every centimeter of his face, the way his hair lay, where he placed his hands around her, how he preferred deep, rich clothing colors that complemented his complexion.

Okay, okay, enough.

However, before she went to sleep, as she did most nights, she took one last look at her Instagram feed. There, she would be safe from any thoughts of Natsume.

Natsume rarely used any social media. His last Facebook update had been officially announcing their relationship three years ago. The rest of his timeline were tags and mentions in other people's photos. He only had an Instagram because Mikan had made one for him, and it mainly consisted of all the cutesy photos they had taken together. Mikan had taken the liberty of posting those for him.

He had the most basic phone, and he still had a pay-for-minutes plan, though texts were unlimited. It hadn't bothered Mikan much; after all, if she wanted to talk to Natsume, she would just see him at the apartment.

But she supposed that was all over… Would she even want to talk to Natsume ever again?

Yes, her romantic side insisted.

Absolutely not, protested her pride.

Go to sleep, said her body, though her mind was awake with thoughts of Natsume.

Nothing too much happening on her feed, a couple of birthdays and other fancy restaurant dinner pictures. She didn't usually bother to check people's stories unless she really knew them so she was about to put her phone away when a handle caught her eye.

What was Ruka up to? Would he know where Natsume was?

And it turned out he did.

Ruka had posted a boomerang of their gang: him, Natsume, Koko, Kitsuneme, Mochu, and Yuu. They were at some beach resort bar, having drinks, and the shock of seeing Natsume's face (after four days!) chilled her.

Mikan barely resisted the urge to message Ruka right then and there, demanding to know what they were doing or where the hell Natsume had been the last few days. No, she wouldn't fall into the "clingy ex-girlfriend" stereotype.

Instead, she spent several minutes, her thumb pausing Ruka's story, thoroughly scrutinizing every detail, especially Natsume's facial expression. It wasn't the best angle or the most clear photo, but it was enough to make Mikan's heart tighten.

Was he happy?

Suddenly, her phone rang, but her inebriated self couldn't manage much of a reaction. It was Natsume.

Recovering from the surprise with a pounding heart, she answered.

But she hadn't figured out what to say so the first few seconds was her heavy breathing.

"Hello?"

"Natsume? Is that you?" She sniffled.

"Yeah, it is my phone." Music faintly played in the background, and she could hear the voices of other people. "Sorry, did I wake you?"

Mikan's thoughts scattered like ashes in the wind. "No, no, I - I just - I was - you know. Bed."

"Have you been drinking?"

"Mm-hmm, just a little." She huffed in exhaustion, the alcohol finally making her drowsy.

She heard a quick release of air on the other end, like he was almost laughing. "I'll be home soon. Maybe like five minutes? I'm passing by the pizzeria at the corner."

"Home? You coming back here? To the apartment?" she managed to slur out.

"Why, am I not allowed to?" There was a small pause. Then he whispered, "Do you not want me to come back?"

Hearing the quiet resignation, the doubt in his voice made a small tear fall out of the corner of her eye. She swiped it away. "Of course I want you to come back."

"Good, because I'm already at the building." Through the line, Mikan could hear the slamming of car doors and the clatter of luggage.

"Yeah, Mikan's on the phone. No, I don't need help. It's late, just go on, guys. Night."

There was the sound of things dropping, and then Natsume's voice came on more clearly through the phone.

"Shit. Hold on, I'll talk to you when I'm up there. Ruka gave me this extra suitcase of souvenirs to carry. See you soon."

The phone brightened to signify the end of the call, and Mikan tucked it underneath her pillow.

Sooner than she expected, she heard the front door open and saw the light turn on through the crack beneath the door. She heard the wheels of his suitcase and the jangle of the keys as he dropped them on the counter in their usual place. Hyper-aware of his presence, she heard the rustle as he hung up his jacket and slipped off his shoes, the pitter-patter of his footsteps towards the bedroom. She pulled the covers over her and pressed her face into the mattress.

"Mikan," he called softly from the doorway.

Childishly, she didn't respond. She was too tired to continue their argument from before.

Thinking her asleep, he tiptoed across the room to the bathroom, shutting the door before turning the light on inside. The shower turned on. Natsume had always taken short showers so before Mikan could fully collect her thoughts, he was quietly pulling back the covers on his side of the bed, freshly bathed.

Mikan was curled up, facing away from his side of the bed, but slipping into their years-old routine, Natsume came up behind her and snuggled her, placing a kiss on her hair and sliding his arm around her waist.

Nestling into her, his body relaxed as he prepared to sleep.

The intimacy of the moment brought tears into Mikan's eyes, and before she knew it, she was bawling and shaking Natsume by the shoulder.

"You were gone, Natsume!"

"Wha - "

"You weren't here for four days, and I tried to call and text you, but you didn't reply, and you just were gone." Hot tears streamed down her face, and she wiped her hand across her nose before he could comment on her snot like he had done when they first met.

"Yeah, I brought you a couple of souvenirs. I'll show you in the morning," he reassured tiredly.

What? Mikan clung to him even tighter; he didn't understand, she didn't understand. "You were gone, Natsume. I thought you left."

"You thought I left? What do you mean?

"I thought you left me."

Natsume mulled over her words. "Like you thought we broke up? Mikan…"

"We had a fight, and then you just walked out and never came back without saying anything!"

"No, didn't you see the note I left on the fridge?

"What note?" In the morning, after they had kissed and made up, Natsume would show Mikan the note he had written on the magnetic pad on the fridge where he usually left the shopping list. In true Natsume fashion, he had written, very succinctly, "Sorry for fighting. Good luck with finals. I wish you were coming to Singapore with us, but I'll buy those candies you really like."

(And he did buy those candies she really liked.)

"I left you a note before I went to Singapore. Remember? Yuu planned a trip for us to celebrate the end of the semester because we all had early finals."

Right. Now that Natsume mentioned Singapore, she recalled him buying airline tickets a few weeks ago. She had suggested choosing the aisle seat next to Ruka rather than the window seat next to Koko, then she had turned her focus back to her biostatistics textbook and promptly forgotten about his vacation. Yuu had planned almost everything, including rides to and from the airport so they hadn't mentioned it since.

"Oh, yeah."

"Yeah," he echoed, lying back down coolly, as though Mikan hadn't been a nervous wreck of negative energy.

She relaxed - just a bit. "You could have called me before you left."

"I know you were really stressed out. I didn't want to bother you. That's why I left the note."

Sensing that she was still bothered, he added, "I'm sorry."

"Couldn't you have called me during? Why didn't you text me?"

Natsume snorted. "You think I have an international plan with this old phone?"

"This is why you need to be on social media. I could have just sent you a message through, like, Instagram or Snapchat, and you would have gotten it." Suddenly bursting with adrenaline, she sat up and clicked on the bedside lamp. Natsume shoved his face into the pillow to block out the light. "That's it. Give me your phone, I'm downloading LINE for you."

"Okay, okay, I'll get it in the morning," which is exactly what he had said about Instagram so Mikan knew he would only grudgingly use it. "Can we go to sleep now?"

"Sleep now? Now you got me all worked up." True enough, the emotional roller coaster and the subsequent adrenaline rush had her sweating.

Natsume pulled her back down and then reached over to turn off the light. "Well then, let's calm you down." He wrapped his entire body around hers, a full body cuddle, squeezing her until he felt her muscles untense.

Nothing felt better than Natsume's hugs. Now, it seemed silly she had even entertained the idea, the possibility, of ending things with Natsume.

He would never let her go, and she would never want him to.

"Don't ever walk away after a fight again," she warned, just to be clear.

"I won't," he promised, dropping a kiss on the top of her head.

Sighing with relief, as though she had extracted an enormous splinter from her soul, Mikan returned the embrace and rubbed her cheek against his. "I missed you."

"I missed you, too."